


I Got You

by MissTinfoilHat



Series: Tumblr Prompts [4]
Category: Gangsta. (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Deaf Character, Explosions, Fluff and Angst, Gift Work, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Major Character Injury, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25042714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTinfoilHat/pseuds/MissTinfoilHat
Summary: Nic is severely injured during an explosion.
Relationships: Worick Arcangelo & Nicolas Brown
Series: Tumblr Prompts [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1499993
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	I Got You

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift to paininanime on tumblr. I love their blog so much and they were craving a fic about this subject, so I felt like I had to show my appreciation! This is my first Gangsta. fic, despite having several started ones on my laptop!
> 
> The next chapter will be posted sometime within the next few days.

The vibration rumbling through the ground was what distracted Nic from Woricks franticly waving arms and visual warnings of danger. For a swift second, the deaf twilight shifted his attention from the trembling and dancing debris on the ground, to peer puzzled over his shoulder as a thick, flaming smokescreen hit him with the force of a rockslide and an invisible force threw him several feet into the air before he hit the ground, shoulder first.  
  
There was only a brief moment to try to comprehend what had just happened. Soon, the dust-colored hurricane of building materials enveloped him and invaded his lungs, making it nearly impossible to breathe while the gravel nicked furiously at his skin like minuscule, piercing blades. The dirty air seemed to hail down on him in larger and larger pieces.

Mind alert but body paralyzed beneath rocks and iron and wooden beams showering from above, Nic struggled to comprehend what just happened.

A moment ago, they were pursuing a group, selling counterfeit Cerebrer to struggling twilights, or their owners. They'd tracked the operation to an old warehouse, and had quickly overpowered and dealt with most of the culprits. They chased after the few that were left and had just stepped outside, pausing for a few seconds to get situated in the new surroundings, when the view turned foggy and Nic was flung across the lot.

The first large piece of concrete hit Nic over the head, followed by what felt like a million more, burying him under the massive weight of the collapsed building while heat burned through his clothes and tore at the exposed flesh.  
  
How long the sky was crying rocks and flames was impossible to distinguish. It could have been seconds or minutes. The world revolved in slow-motion all the same, dragging each moment beyond belief, exaggerating each tear to his skin, each pounding his body took and making him yearn for when it would eventually knock him out or kill him.

Desperate and in immense pain, Nic tried to let out a noise. He had no idea if it carried through, or if he had been successful in making any sound at all. It was the only thing he could do, with his arms pinned to his side and legs covered by a huge piece of cement. No matter if he had been able to cry out or not, it left him in a painful coughing fit, shattered ribs shifting agonizingly, robbing him of air he was already severely lacking.

The pitch blackness that surrounded him made him oblivious to the fact he already was losing consciousness.

* * *

Despite himself, Worick couldn't help calling out for his partner and friend. As much as he knew Nic would never be able to hear him, it was already easy to forget in everyday life when the twilight stood and watched incomprehensively as Worick gnarled at him for not answering the phone. Either way, if the twilight had been hearing or not, Worick could hardly hear himself through the ear-shattering blast and the following ringing in his ears.

The force of the falling building and explosion knocked him off his feet, but the moment he had gathered himself and the eruption had died out, Worick was back up.

He ran along the rubbles, shouting his friend's name frantically, hoping to spot a black splotch of hair, or a twitching hand trying to claw its way out of the crumbled and burning remains. Except for dust settling on the ground, there was no sign of movement anywhere.  
  
How could he have let Nic get caught by the explosion like that? Why didn’t he just grab him by the arm, pulling him to safety? Instead of helping him, he had distracted him with his panicked waving. He had _yelled_ at him to run when the idiot hadn’t even been looking at him! 

People in the area had started to gather, daring to come closer now that the situation seemed to have settled down. Some people joined him in the search, and he could hear someone say that they would call the fire department.

Worick on the other hand, stepped away to call Dr. Theo and Chad. He knew that the moment someone realized that Nic was a tag, there was a good chance the volunteers would dissipate. Even the fire department or the ambulance didn't have any obligations to help an insignificant twilight. As much as they had to clean up and secure the place, if Nic was injured, he'd be chucked off to the side somewhere. They might even blame the entire explosion on him.

Either way, they would need Chad.

After explaining quickly what had happened to the elderly inspector and left a vague message with Nina, trying to reassure her that everything was fine and not to worry, but to tell Dr. Theo to hurry his visually impaired ass over there faster then the police would shut his dubious practice down on a surprised raid, he ended the call and stared numbly on the screen.

He had an unread message from Alex, notifying him that she had bought his cigarettes as he asked and that they had received another mission from grandma Joel about roughing up a few thugs responsible for another robbery at her stand earlier in the day. Worick realized that he needed to call her too and tell her what was going on. Something in his stomach coiled by the thought. She didn't handle worrying by herself too well.

As he turned to dial the number to their office, he heard a male voice shout, sounding almost disappointed, “Never mind. It's just a twilight.”

* * *

Nic forced himself back to consciousness like he had so many times before, a notion he had taught his body during his childhood as a mercenary. There was no time for being unaware of his surroundings and the moment he felt a hint of lucidity within the dark realms of unconsciousness, he would grasp onto it with a death grip and squirm his way through the grimy quicksand of fatigue and pain and back to the surface.

Yet, also aligned with how it would work in his childhood, he regretted it the moment he opened his eyes. The black orbs stung from dust and debris, while pain shot through his body in agonizing spasms. A swift flashback of waking up after being mortally wounded in combat before his troop left him behind flickered through his mind. His left arm was impaled by a sharp rock, lodged into a position above his face trying to protect his eyes from the tip of the sharp object that had buried into the side of his elbow, deep enough to hit bone.

He realized that this was _bad._ With each breath he took, harsh coughing fits persued. The air around him felt thin and heavy at the same time, and his exhausted lungs struggled with each intake. The space around him was too dark to make out if he was laying on his stomach.

Tryingly, he reached his right arm out as much as he was able too. It wasn't much; it reached a patch of dirt that he tried to scratch to see if the debris would stay grounded or drizzle onto his face. The particles of sand fell between his scarred knuckles, and he took it as a sign that he was laying on his back and started to wiggle his feet to get loose from the tight embrace of the earth beneath him. Another sharp pain through his hip and legs made him stop abruptly, but without sight or hearing, digging was his only escape from the masses of dirt and rocks, so he gritted his teeth together and tried his best to bare with it.

With only a right arm at his aid, he kept scratching, loosening pieces of dirt that fell to cover his face while he cleared a narrow tunnel through the layers of grime until it reached something solid. Gnarling, he realized that he wouldn’t be able to break through it and retracted his arm, starting anew in a different spot. 

This time, he succeeded in getting past the object that had stopped him before- he felt the blunt corner of the beam scratch against his palm as he cut through the earth beside it. The small relief was short-lived however, as he soon after had the entirety of his right arm extended without breaking through the surface. There was no use. 

Somehow, the realization of having to wait until rescue made his adrenaline ebb off. The weight of whatever crushing his legs started to grow together with the uncomfortable shifting of broken ribs with each involuntary twitch, soon threatening to become unbearable. The sharp edge of the object impaling his arm grid and splintered at the bone. Nic had to bite his lip to not cry out in pain, even if he knew that no one would hear him. The constant reminder that his voice made people uncomfortable was still etched into his mind. Especially as uncontrolled as it was under great discomfort like this. 

From time to time, they would use it as an intimidation technique. That didn’t bother him. Worick had explained that his natural speaking voice was deep and scratchy. Even if he had been hearing, it would be like that. It was the sounds that he didn’t have control over that people seemed bothered by. 

Painful noises. Even Worick was unable to keep face by those, so Nic tried not to make them.

Something above him stirred, making the weight on his chest change with it. His chest tightened, and his breath came out in short, rapid gasps. It felt like the airflow through his lungs wasn’t enough, and an instant of panic struck him. _He couldn’t breathe._

Whatever had made the weight above him shift, kept doing it and it was getting harder to draw a breath. Something had to happen soon if he wanted to avoid being strangled to death. 

With the little strength left in his chest, Nic shakily, as careful as he could, filled his lungs and wheezed out as much sound as he could produce. Dizziness enveloped him instantly, but he stubbornly repeated the action. Coughs tore through his chest, a heated liquid spilled from his lips as he kept going. 

Soon, the darkness that surrounded him cleared and a small hole appeared from above, dimly illuminating the pitch darkness. With a shaking arm, Nic reached towards it, recognizing how the edges of his vision were closing in.  
  
He was just able to worm his hand through the opening. A moment after, a calloused hand met it, holding it tightly, reassuringly. If Nic had had the energy to clutch onto it himself, he would have. 

_“Wo… Wo-ick,”_ he muttered weakly, barley hanging onto consciousness as the gap widened and the hand meeting his became visible and the light intensified. Dazed, he peered incomprehensively at his own arm, the clear, bright burns coating it, the bright blood seeping from the wounds. Then, at the limb grabbing onto his, not recognizing it. 

_But that didn’t make any sense. Where did Worick’s hand go?_

The remaining dirt still covering the ground above him quickly crumbled away, exposing him to the sunlight and fresh air which he still struggled to take in. A man he didn’t know hovered above him, mouthing something he couldn’t read. 

A wave of relief washed over Nic, and he didn’t care if he couldn’t recognize this person or understand what he was saying. The claustrophobic darkness was gone and he knew that at least he wouldn’t die from being buried alive. Quickly, several more people appeared above him, arms reaching out, brushing him off and tugging at him.

_Where was Worick?_

Was Worick buried beneath the ground too? A spark of worry grew in Nic, and he had no idea if he was asking out loud or if he only moved his mouth. 

_Worick! Where’s Worick?_

The man who had first grabbed onto Nic stretched out towards him but suddenly paused. Through half-lidded eyes, Nic looked on as the arm reached down and lifted up the chain around his neck. Scrunched eyes examined the tag carefully. When the chain slackened and fell back against Nic’s neck, the expression of his rescuer dulled. He almost looked disappointed. 

_“Never mind,”_ Nic read on the man’s lips as he got back up. The earth decayed under the soles of his shoes when he got back up, dropping onto Nicolas’s helpless form

 _“W-wait. Wo-ick?”_ he tried to call after them, but he knew there was no use. Nobody cared. Of course, they didn’t. That didn’t come as a surprise to him. But if Worick was out there somewhere in the same spot as him, he needed to let them know! He was an actual person! 

Once more, he tried to yell, arm still in the air, grasping for anyone, _anything._ Whatever sound might have been emitted from his throat was drowned out by debilitating coughs that made him crumble with pain. His thin line of vision narrowed further but he forced himself to clutch onto awareness. 

Because _Worick- they could help Worick. He was worth saving._

He felt his arm grow heavier, shaking harder. There was nothing left in him to keep it fueled. It burned from wariness, from diminishing hope and began to fall while Nic felt like he sank deeper into the ground he already laid in---

But something caught him. A strong hand grabbing onto his. A rough, dry palm clasping on, uncaring of the injuries littering his hand. Strong fingers tightening the hold as Nic felt himself slip. 

The last thing he saw, was the sparkle of a single azure eye, and a stubbled cheek wrinkling into a devious smile, articulating a brief, “I got you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider supporting me on ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/misstinfoilhat :-)


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